my dear Mr. Clyffurde," she
added, "was intended by God and by nature to be a selfish beast. When he
ceases to think of himself, he loses his bearings, flounders in a
quagmire of unprofitable heroism which benefits no one, and generally
behaves like a fool."

"Did I do all that?" asked Clyffurde with a smile.

"All of it and more. And look at the muddle you have made of things.
Crystal has never got over that miserably aborted engagement of hers to
de Marmont, and is no happier now with Maurice de St. Genis than she
would have been with . . . well! with anybody else who had had the good
sense to woo and win her in a straightforward, proper and selfish
masculine way."

"Mademoiselle de Cambray, I understand," rejoined Clyffurde stiffly, "is
formally affianced now to M. de St. Genis."

"She is not formally affianced, as you so pedantically and affectedly
put it, my friend," replied Madame with her accustomed acerbity. "But
she probably will marry him, if he comes out of this abominable war
alive, and if the King of France . . . whom may God protect--comes into
his own again. For His Majesty has taken those two young jackanapes
under his most gracious protection, and has promised Maurice a lucrative
appointment at his court--if he ever has a court again."

"Then Mademoiselle de Cambray must be very happy, for which--if I dare
say so--I am heartily rejoiced."

"So am I," said the Duchesse drily, "but let me at the same time tell
you this: I have always known that Englishmen were peculiarly idiotic in
certain important matters of life, but I must say that I had no idea
idiocy could reach the boundless proportions which it has done in your
case. Well!" she added with sudden gentleness, "farewell for the
present, mon preux chevalier: it is not too late, remember, to bear in
mind certain old axioms both of chivalry and of commonsense--the most
obvious of which is that nothing is gained by sitting open-mouthed,
whilst some one else gets the largest helpings at supper. And if it is
any comfort to you to know that I never believed St. Genis' story of
lonely inns, of murderous banditti and whatnots, well then, I give you
that information for what you may choose to make of it."

And with a final friendly nod and a gentle pressure of her aristocratic
hand on his, which warmed and comforted Bobby's sore heart, she turned
away from him and was quickly swallowed up by the crowd.

IV

In spite of rain and blustering wind ou